Cold Showers
by datkidd
Summary: Beca Mitchell finally gets out of the unintentional mess of prostitution. By day a street guitarist, by night... well an asexual hooker. She gets a job or three and lives in a terrible apartment that reeks of cigarettes. Chloe Beale, hears her neighbor's music and knows she's special. With a bad past, it's hard to stay normal enough.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is probably going to suck, but whatever, right? Um... so what do I say... hope you like it? "Hope you like it" my ass. I don't know. It's Bechloe. Basic plot: Beca Mitchell, an asexual (for multiple reasons) prostitute (not by choice), finally coughs up enough money to rent an apartment. From streets to a cold room with a window that's jammed open and only one pillow with no sheets, she attempts to escape from the sexual abuse and crazy people with drugs, but a redhead who lives downstairs hears someone playing guitar and knows they are way too good to be wasting her life away.**

 **Welp. Hope y'all like it I guess. :)**

* * *

A gust of wind blew through the streets, Beca Mitchell shivered. She had a violent fever, but sat through it on the concrete sidewalk in the winter of New York City. Her only belongings were a pair of dark jeans, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, some tattered sneakers, and a guitar. The calluses on the tips of her fingers from playing guitar for every night for the past three years kept her hand warm, while the other hand was constantly being blown on with warm air from her mouth. She laid the guitar in her lap for a moment to adust her sitting position. After checking the tuning, her cold fingers picked at the top strings while her other skillfully danced up and down the neck. She lifted her head up to look at the sunset, but kept playing equally as well than looking. A boy and someone who Beca assumes was his mother walked by, the boy, maybe three or four, stared at the homeless woman. She gave him a polite smile and in return he flashed a wide grin before looking up to his mother who was talking on the phone, dragging him along.

Beca was not the typical homeless woman. In fact, she was in an unavoidable mess. She had never spoken about to anyone, and no one truely knew how she gotten mixed up in everything, not even her mother, the one who she blamed. When her mother left her husband of ten years for a woman Beca was furious at just nine years old. She never wanted anything to do with homosexuals, lucky for her and others around her she lived in Maine, so the population of homos wasn't as many as other places. Her father was also upset. As Beca was a spitting image of Emily Mitchell, her father changed after Emily left them. He found himself wanting to rip off his belt and hit his daughter until she was motionless, and that he did after trying to hold back the feeling for a few months, making Beca want nothing to do with men, making her feel no sexual desire for anyone. Francis Mitchell was overflowing with hatred for himself and for everything around him, resulting to quitting his job and drinking himself to death when Beca was seventeen and almost eighteen. So she lived alone in southern Maine, underaged using her mother's name for paying bills and such. Emotionally exhausted, she would would have episodes of pure depression and other times where she found herself clenching her jaw at night until four in the morning, which wasnt really night anymore. She never told anyone about her father's death. No one ever found out, his job was about an hour and a half away. Whenever someone would ask who she lived with she would say her grandmother, but truth was that her grandmother died at age forty from pneumonia. No one ever found out. No one ever asked who's grave was in her backyard and she never told anyone.

With no money Beca had tried hard to work three jobs in the apartment she managed to get while still using her father's money in Boston. With no college education, it was difficult to find one, so when two of the jobs laid her off for someone better her life completely went downhill. She found herself being asked by men to have sex and that they would even pay her. She jumped at the "pay you" part and didn't think of the consequences. So when the last job finally laid her off for similar reasons, she turned to the disliked prostitution by night and the guitar she had had the entire time with her by day. Slowly, she made money. She hated the men that would come up to her in the night and she hated every second of the sex. She hated everyone, not thinking there was anyone who could make her feel loved. She was tired and hungry all the time, she wanted to die, but not without trying her best to create a normal life.

The sun was only had a sliver over the buildings. Beca was dreading the night, seeing as it was a Friday, but she was so, so close to being done with it all, being able to run away from her usual streets and land in an apartment.

The sun was far down and the guitarist was in the middle of her last song with a small crowd of four people. A sparkling eyed redhead walked cautiously down the street, probably nervous from all of the sketchy people hanging around.

 _And in the pipe she flies to the motherland_

Beca's quiet sing filled the air, which made the approaching redhead slow down.

 _Or sells love to another man_

 _It's too cold outside_

 _For angels to fly_

Beca's voice threatened to crack as she listened to herself sing, but choked it all down, like every other time someone had requested that particular song.

 _An angel will die_

 _Covered in white_

The fiery haired woman listened in, almost stopping once she was behind the four people. Her eyebrows furrowed and her face with a thoughtful look at the ground, then a quick glance at Beca, but the musician had noticed her attempt at inconspicuousness as she finished the song. Three out of the four people left a tip, one person being with another so they had the excuse. But Beca was offended that the ginger had listened to almost an entire song, but not had left even a smile. Usually Beca was indifferent about how a person felt about her music, maybe a group she cared, but never just one person. She wanted to pull the red back to her and show her that she was worth giving even just a dollar to. But Beca wasn't worth a dollar, she was worth more.

It was almost midnight, meaning the small girl had to go to her spot where men could go to her. Waiting around for half an hour someone came to her. "What are you willing to offer?" the woman asked.

"Ehm... how 'bout 350 bucks for an hour? Sound good?" the man reasoned. "It's just me and a couple friends tonight."

Beca's face lit at the price it was almost a hundred dollars above what she needed to get the apartment. "Yeah, yeah. Of course," she replied lightly. "Some dances only I'm guessing and just that boner-making bullshit?"

He laughed, being able to tell she was excited. He took her arm as they walk a few blocks down. "I don't often find people with your duty to be so excited. What's the motive?"

Not wanting to say much about herself Beca said, "Um, you know. Personal reasons. I just... 350 is quite a bit, don't you think? I mean, I'm not complaining, but yeah..."

The man furrowed his brow. "It's boys' night, it's supposed to be expensive," he paused a moment. "Right?"

He opened the door an apartment. "I guess."

The apartment was mostly empty, only three chairs, two taken, were in the tiny living room area. The man who had taken her in sat in the last chair sighing. Beca really put herself to her best, hoping for a tip at the end. Her only thoughts the entire time were " _One. Last. Time. This is it! Get me a real bed to sleep in all by my fucking self."_

The last dance finished and the guys complimented her on her body and sent her out the door with Seven hundred in cash, plus fifty as a tip. Her thighs killed from all the moves she had done. Finally. She was free.

* * *

Since it would've been suspicious with the police if she had gone then for a room, Beca stayed on the street one last time. She slumped down on a side of a corner and cradled her instrument. Eyelids heavy, she had a dream.

 _Francis whipped his belt out of their holes and brought his arm back. She was on the floor in the middle of the bathroom while he slashed her arms and legs. Another man came with red eyes, drugged, to make her give him head, slamming her small frame against a bed. Through all of the pain she closed her eyes to open them again and see her mother with another woman. Emily was pushing down on Beca's head, sweetly but the way someone would do to a dog. It disgusted her. She tried hard to pull back the heated tears but they filled her eyes. She closed them to open them agin to being drowned in a bathtub. Beca had attempted suicide after her father, but was saved by her soap bar falling into the water. She always looked back to hate herself even more and wished she had just let the bar fall and should've ignored it and killed herself already, but outof habit she picked it up and pulled herself out of the water and put it back on the little shelf. Feeling stupid after, she didn't go through with it. She hated herself everyday for it. In the dream though, a voice called out "Beca?" it was a sweet, vaguely familiar voice._

She awoke, not used to being called by her name. It was a strange, but frequent dream. Suddebly she remembered what had happened the night before. She picked up her guitar to go get her apartment.

* * *

 **It's kinda wierd making Beca a prostitute. I pretty much just got the idea from listening to The A Team by Ed Sheeran, which was the song she sang. Please do tell if I should keep going. And sorry if there are some bad typos, I don't like autocorrect so I never have it on. Chloe will probably be properly introduced in either the third chapter or in the late of the next. Thanks for reading and... hope you liked it! ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heyo, heyo. Update! So I'm from somewhere like just barely southeast of Portland and yahhh... just a little fun fact. About me. That y'all probably don't give a shit about. Maybe half a shit, I'm not sure. Anyhoo, DISCLAIMER: I never did, don't, and never will own Pitch Perfect characters and such.**

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"So... you're from Portland, Maine?" the interviewer asked indifferent to what the answer was.

"Um, yeah, yep," Beca spoke a lot when she was nervous, even if it was literally nothing being said.

"And why does it say here on you resume that you stopped working for three years, not in college, not record of a home?"

"Oh, I was just living with my grandmother and I guess I never put it down, I guess," she took a second to realize that she said "I guess" twice in one sentence. _Well, fuck me up._

"And that you were arrested... once," he took way too long to read in Beca's opinion. "for underaged drinking?" He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

She let out a nervous laugh. "Well, that proves I'm not completely new to drinks."

The guy infront of her shook his head and smirked. "Why didn't you go to college though? You probably could've gotten a full scholarship and a half according to your grades."

Beca's jaw clenched and she suddenly became very concious of everything she was doing. Her flickered between the other man's. "I guess I never just got around to it." That was a big lie. She was just too poor. That's why she was applying for a position as a bartender at a place named Marty's. Even graduating class validictorian and earning multiple scholarships across the globe, she still couldn't do it. All through school she had been a great student, perhaps not the kindest, but once her dad passed she was young and didn't know what else to do than bury her head further into her textbooks.

"Hm. Last question about this, why do you put yourself under the stress of three jobs?"

"Well, time is everything and before I can continue my education," she wasn't planning on going through with college. "I need money and the quickest way to get there is when my stress is blasting through the roof. I don't need to waste time on a social life right now. I always pack lightly." She presented her speech with a genuine smile, proud that she had come up with that on the spot. "I mean, I'm not like super wierd though that people would buy a drink less to avoid me."

"No wonder you're smart. I think you got a pretty good chance with us," he sighed. "Just curious, what are your other jobs and times, just planning your schedule." He winked at her.

"Mondays to Wednesdays from nine in the morning until two I'm a waitress at the little diner down the street called Coffee and Junk. Then Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thrudays from four to eight I play piano in some guy's restaurant."

"Well that lines up perfectly for you to be her on Fridays and Saturdays, right?"

"Yeah, and thank you so much for even just putting some time for this interview," she took a second to look around the bar. "This is a really nice place." And she did mean it.

* * *

Getting back to her apartment, it was freezing. She had asked the lobby guy about getting some oil to shut the window that was about a foot and a half open, but no one had come. She guessed it kind of helped to get rid of some of the cigarrette smell.

When she walked in there was a note that had obviously been slipped under the door. " _Do you like lasagna? Please answer and slip back under room 212, unless you want to knock. Thanks!"_ was written in probably the neatest handwritting Beca had ever seen. It almost looked like it had been printed out of a printer, but the girl studied it in her hand and could see slight differences between the letters. _Damn,_ she thought. _Looks like someone either really smart or really dumb... but they spelled "lasagna" correctly... so probably smart._ She was alway great at finding patterns and being logical, maybe that was why she was a math wiz and not a history buff.

She wrote back in the scrawny handwritting she had always had, "y _eP, laSAGNa's cooL. NOt coLd LasAGnA, bUT ya knoW. UM, whY thOUgh?_ " Beca Mitchell hated writing classes. Even more, ones where they had to write by hand. At a young age she never understood why capitalization was important so she would let her hand do whatever seems more convenient. Her teachers hated it, but she didn't give.

She went down the steps of the third floor down the the second to drop off the note. As she approached the door she could hear two women talking. "Bree, you eat all the ice cream? I really want me some moose tracks right now." Something about the voice seemed like she knew it from somewhere.

"Nope. And why would we have ice cream right now, it's like, below five. We live in Boston now, not Atlanta anymore, remember?"

Feeling kind of wierd for listening to the roomates' conversation about ice cream and weather, Beca slipped the neon yellow post-it that she had recieved under the door of room 212. As she started her way back down the hall she heard the door open after the first voice said, "Hey, they must've written back!" Beca for even her unknown reason jumped around the corner before the door was unlocked. "Hm. They probably left it while ago. But I swear I saw it move. Didn't you, Bree?"

Beca made her way back up the stairs and just sat out side her door. It was too cold to go in, but she desperately needed a shower. She was just gathering her courage to step under that freezing, icy water. She wouldn't pay a cent for hot water if she could. In the mind, hot water was meant for tea and coffee. Nothing else.

After realizing how stupid she was being for getting all comfortable, preparing to be very _un_ comfortable, it would just make her cold if she got used to the normal temperature of the hallway. She picked herself up, walked into the bathroom, took off her clothes, and stepped into the hell she was about to survive. She turned the faucet carefully, "Fucking shit!" she yelled as quietly as possible, although she kne it probably wasn't very quiet. It was a quick, cold shower. Once she had a stable amount of money, that would definitely be at the top of the list.

Beca changed into some new but cheap light jeans and a plain white t-shirt that she'd found at a small thrift store near the bar. Finally feeling like her life was somewhat normal, she'd bought a few other clothes, all the most basic she could find. She hated people who were overly extra. A lot. Kind of hypocritical that she swore at least once in every conversation she thought.

It was about eight in the night when a light knock came from her door. "Anyone home?" It was the second girl from the 212 apartment, Beca recognized. "I got something for you."

"Just a second." The brunette set down her guitar which she had been working with and hurried over to the door wondering what the other girl was going to be giving her. She opened the door to a intimidatingly tall blonde with a lasagna pan in her hand. The shirter woman's stomach growled noticably loud.

"Well I'm glad someone's hungry," she said with a warm smile. "I'm Aubrey."

"Oh, I'm Beca and you got some hella nice penmanship skills," she chuckled a little nervous about trying to make friends. "You wanna come in... or something, I dunno..." She stepped back to let Aubrey in.

"Well, actually that was- woo, it's chilly in here," she looked at Beca, giving a hard stare. "Who doesn't have heat?"

Beca moved back, a little afraid. "I think you mean 'whom," Her words barely audible. The blonde narrowed her eyes.

Suddenly changing demeanor she smiled. "I like smart people, I think we'll be great friends! But seriously, it's cold. You should come downstairs sometimes. Chloe and I always have out heat on in the winter."

"And Chloe is..." Beca questioned.

"Oh she's my roomate, my best friend for life," she laughed setting down the lasagna on Beca's kitchen counter. "She's the one who wrote the note. And this lasagna is for you! Chloe also made this."

"Yeah, it smells really good. Are you sure you wanna give this to me though?"

"Oh yeah. We always give new residents here food. It's like our thing."

"That's really nice of you guys," she stopped before taking off the tinfoil that was on top. "Do you mind if I, ya know..."

"Yeah, yeah, it's alright." Aubrey watched Beca take off the tinfoil and start to make a plate.

"You want a piece?" Beca really didn't want to give her any but she knew it would be wierd for her to eat while the other girl just sat on the floor with her in her kitchen because she had no table or chairs.

"Um, if you don't mind that'd be wonderful." Beca tore the tinfoil in perfectly two and molded perfect plates. "What about untensils though?"

Beca's jaw clenched and her eyes darted back and forth between Aubrey's. "I haven't finished unpacking. Sorry, I forgot." Her voice became very serious.

"It's alright. We could take this to my place and used real plates and forks if you want," they laughed and left together side by side.

When they got in it was polar opposite of Beca's apartment. It was about twice as big and was full of necessities and random little knick knacks. A section of a wall was filled with polaroids, another with paintings. What caught Beca's eye was the upright piano near a window. "Woah."

"Yeah it's a little messy, but that's alright." Aubrey lead Beca to the kitchen that was filled with mugs and pots and pans. They set down the food and started to eat. The taller girl only taking a small piece while the smaller girl took About a fourth of the entire pan. "Jeez, you gonna eat all that?"

Fork in mouth the brunette could only manage an "mhmm" and a nod. Aubrey just giggled. She got an idea, taking her finger, putting it in some sauce she told Beca she think she look really hot with make up on and skillfully place the sauce on the tip of the smaller girl's nose. Beca practically spit out her food on the word "hot" but she knew it wasn't normal to react that way so she laughed it off. It scared her to think that a woman- no even just a person told her she would look hot. She did not like it at all. "Thanks," she said sarcastically while wiping her nose and licking it off her finger. "I try my hardest."

They two laughed for a while, exchanging jokes, having a good time when a fumble and "Shit." came from the other side of the door. "Ooh, that's Chloe. You gonna love her!" Aubrey whisper-exclaimed.

The door opened and in came a woman with red hair and eccentric blue eyes. "Hey! I'm Chloe. Who's this, Aub?"

Beca's world stopped for half a second. All her focus was on her new friend's roomate. She'd never paid this much attention to even her second semester of senior year in highschool. "This is Beca. She just moved in upstairs a day or something ago," the blonde cut into the brunette's thoughts. The redhead stared back.

This was the same girl who Beca had wanted to prove that she was worth giving to. "Yeah, nice to meet you. I oughta get back to my place before..." she stopped at the doorway. "Thanks for the lasagna."

Before Chloe or Aubrey could respond she was upstairs in her one bedroom apartment, sleeping her coldness away.

* * *

 **Hehe, yeah? This, again, is Bechloe, not Mitchsen. Beca's a little intimidated by Aubrey, but I don't think I'll turn her into a psycho. Thanks to y'all for reading, following, favoriting, and giving feedback! It all helps me keep going, haha.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Not really sure how long this story's gonna be. Even if I guess it'll definitely be way wrong, I know myself. Thank you for the reviews and shit!**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: No one actually does anything, but it is narrated. If that bothers you, I'm so sorry.**

* * *

Beca awoke in the middle of the night, wrapped in a single blanket on her sheet-less bed. The window allowed the wind to furiously bring in the single digits from outdoors. Her teeth chattering and fingers legitamately numb she unwraveled herself, forfeiting her only source of warmth to cover the window. The wind stopped, but it was still freezing. Guessing it was maybe two or three in the morning, according to the moon, she sleepily hobbled over to the door. The rush of warmth of the hallway flooded in, reminding her of warm cookies. Sitting at her door, she let her thoughts control her mind for a bit.

 _"Hey, Beca!" her AP Writing teacher call out before the small sophmore could sqirm her way out of the classroom. "Could we chat a second? I know this is your lunch... you could just eat here today? Please?"_

 _"Hm," she never said much in class, there were too many upperclassmen to know anyone. Nevertheless, she took out her banana and sat in the closest desk to Ms. York's. "What's that?"_

 _"Just checking in," she smiled. Not getting any sort of reaction out of her student, she continued. "Well, I have you here because... I was wondering... oh gosh."_

 _Beca raised her eyebrows in amusement. "English teacher having trouble finding the right words?" she gave only the smallest twitch of the mouth into a smile. But it was gone as quick as it had come. "What is it Ms. York? Be blunt with me."_

 _Her voice was alarmingly serious. "You just seem so depressed all the time. Is there- mhm," the teacher cleared her throat. "Possibly something going on at home?"_

 _"You're my teacher, not my therapist," she immediately got up and pushed in her chair. Despite her rush of anger, she stopped at the door. "I don't mean that I have a therapist, but still. Nothing's wrong at home. Nothing's wrong at school. And nothing's wrong with me. I'm fine." She rushed out of sight before the young_ teacher _could say anymore._

Beca had ended up dropping out of that class and taking AP Chem instead, which was completely on the other side of the building.

Not really remembering that it would be odd if someone came out and saw her sleeping, she let her head rest on her shoulder. And it was odd when Chloe was crouched down next to the drowsy brunette with half of a pan of lasagna, a few paper plates, and plastic silverware. It almost scared Beca back to sleep when she saw the early-bird redhead. "And... goodmorning. Wow, I thought you were dying," her laugh was bubbly. "You didn't finish you food and Aubrey's at work."

"Uh. Hm. Tha-anks," her stomach grumbling she sat herself up.

Chloe let out a quiet laugh. "You kinda cute when you sleep," when she doesn't recieve any sort of reaction, not even the slightest blush, she shift unconfortably and continues. "Well, you still want this or...?"

"Oh my god, of course I want it!" the smaller girl said, coming to her senses on what was happening. She still wasn't fully awake yet, which resulted to her inviting Chloe, this almost random stranger into her deadly cold apartment. "You wanna come in? I got coffee."

"Already had some, but a second cup won't kill!" she says trying to ignore the uncomfortable look Beca was giving her. While opening her door, she sighed in her head, _If this girl knew that me giving coffee is KIND OF A BIG DEAL, ESPECIALLY SINCE I BARELY HAVE A MEAL A DAY... she wouldn't waster my coffee... Why did I offer in the first place? God, I'm so dumb!_

"Don'tcha think it's a little cold in here?" the ginger snapped the other girl out of her one-person conversation in her head.

"That's what Aubrey said too," Chloe noticed that the tone she said it in was almost playful, but when she looked over she saw Beca's eyebrows furrowed together, seeming to be in deep thought. _Oh my god,_ Chloe thought. _This girl is too cute! She's so awkward, but she doesn't seem to like me. Why?_

"You want some help?" the girl still at the entrance asked when she heard "shit."

"Yeah, um, I kind suck at lighting matches. Do you mind?"

"Here, I'll show you," Chloe laughed as she walked in and saw about ten wasted matches. She leaned behind Beca putting both arms around her to move the smaller arms. She felt the girl tense, but she didn't say anything about it, so she continued.

She could practically feel Chloe's heartbeat, feeling her own to be at the same beat. When she put her hand on hers to strike the match she pushed through the urge to scream and run away like a freak. _I really am a freak, and I'm so dumb to offer coffee. What the hell was I thinking?!_ She often had voices like those in her head, telling her she was stupid and worthless. Sometimes she believed them, other times she would distract herself and read a book. When she was younger she would slit her wrists weekly, remembering everything she did wrong. She had started one fall, wearing long sleeves in the cold months of Maine, but once summer came around she forced it to a stop. Sometimes she still felt an itch to just amputate her arm so she could feel the rush again, but never had the guts to do it because she was smart enough to know that she wouldn't be able to stop if she started again. It was hard enough the first time.

They finally lit the stove under the pot, but Beca was so deep in thought that her face looked almost scary to Chloe. "Hey, are you alright? You kinda scaring me here," she snickered.

She turned her head to her right where Chloe still had herself semi-wrapped around her body. "I... I have to get to work, I'm sorry. I'll make this, but I gotta go right after," she saw the disappointment on the bubbly redhead's face, suddenly feeling like she was responsible to make her happy again. "Sorry, I've been a little... you know. Weird. We should hang out sometime though. When I'm not like this." She forced out a small laugh and a smirk.

"Of course! Here's my number," writing it down on a near by post-it. "Maybe we can hang out at a bar Bree and I love this Friday?"

Beca, knowing she had no use for the random series of numbers written down in perfect handwriting, took the post-it and smiled. "Depends on what time," she laughed to herself. _I work a shit ton._ "I work on Fridays. At a bar actually. Marty's?"

"Really? That's the one we go to! What time does your shift end?"

"Goes from five to nine. Just started, so I'm not really up in the 'heirarchy' yet."

"Hm... can you meet us there at ten?"

"Yep! See you guys then," she smile, glad to have made sort-of friends with another person.

"Yeah, text me!" Chloe called out as she exited the door. _Kinda, sorta, maybe can't!_ Beca thought in her head, using the same tone her neighbor had. _But she kinda, sorta, maybe doesn't know that I'm poor as fuck and have to work three jobs to keep me from suicidal thoughts, hahaha!_ Her mind said it in the fakest happy voice. Oh, the irony.

She didn't really have to go to work, she just needed some fucking breathing space before she passed out from holding her breath. It had become a subconcious habit, holding her breath when someone was too close. She was never really sure where the habit had come from, it was just there. When she was being almost hugged by Chloe, she could've sworn she heard her smelling her hair. Beca was thankful she had washed it the night before. But why did that matter to her? Why did she feel the need to prove to this stranger that she was a potential friend? In Beca's opinion, it was weird abd she needed to stop. She grew up never having any emotions toward anyone, and that's the way she wanted it to stay. "No feelings, no hurt" was always her motto, even if it wasn't always true. When her mom left her, she would repeat it until she was exhausted and fell asleep. Same thing with when her dad died, although it was a little harder. The only person she truely cared about, even if they _were_ a drunk and abusive, had given up on her and himself. She had gone insane for a few weeks.

Now, with a whole day ahead of her and nothing to do, she picked up her guitar and began a song she had been working on.

 _Right before my eyes_

 _I saw the whole world lose control_

Starting at the chorus, where she was having a hard time with the right notes a few day ago was beginning to flow naturally.

 _The whole world lose control_

 _Before my eyes, uh-huh_

It was true, three years ago she watched her life be shredded apart in an instant.

 _I fell through the floor_

 _I couldn't take it anymore_

Remembering all those death attempts, water dared to form in her eyes, blurring her vision.

 _I can't take this anymore_

 _It breaks my mind, uh-huh_

The liquid took over her eyes and she messed up the next note. "Damnit, Beca! Do something right, will you?" she whispered to herself.

While Beca played, Chloe stood outside her door. Tears threatening to fall, wondering what was going on in her new friend's mind. She realized she had been standing there for a while and went downstairs. "I want to help you, Bec," she whispered to herself, wiping away the tears. "I really do."

* * *

 **Kind of a shorter chapter. I too read to distract myself from my problems, that's how I started reading these... so yeah. Much love for people reading, thanks bunches! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**The guest who said Aubrey's flirty: Haha, I don't think I meant it like that. My friends and I act like that together, but we don't smash at sleepovers. Sorry if that came off wrong, this isn't Mitchsen.**

 **Thank you so much for the other reviews and junk, I really didn't think anyone would.**

* * *

After the one unknown person audience concert, Chloe had come to the realization that she had seen Beca somewhere. She couldn't quite put her finger on where, but she most definitely had a memory of her. At first she thought she had seen her in the supermarket maybe? No, though. Her voice was too recognizable. It was somewhere where she had sung. A sad song. Maybe in a dream? Maybe she was just going insane? Maybe, maybe...

It had been a couple days since her visit at Beca's, but still there was no text message from an unknown number. Constantly checking her phone to find no new messages, Chloe began to worry if she scared the girl. But she had agreed to meet her and Bree at Marty's, so she couldn't have been too bad. Right? The moment she heard her neighbor sing the beatifully sad song she searched for the lyrics everywhere until she finally found the song. Right Before My Eyes by Cage the Elephant. She had it on repeat after buying it on iTunes, occasionally playing some other similar music by the same band. Though she had never heard of them, after the second song she listened to by them, she was in instant love. Beca had a really good taste in music, she had concluded.

Wanting to hear an acoustic version the way she had first heard it, there was nothing anywhere on the internet that she could find that played it as uniquely as Beca. She longed to hear it again, ask her what was up, get her to open up to her and help her through her struggles, but the brunette was obviously skittish. She wondered how the so very affirmative Aubrey Posen interacted so well with the anxious Beca... Chloe hadn't even known her last name, but was somehow the small girl filled her head with questions. At work even. There was a puppy name Becky and she couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence. This tiny, cute puppy and this tiny, cute human. It was definitely a strange thought, but a thought nevertheless.

"Hey, Bree. How was work?" Chloe asked when her best friend walked through their door.

"Fine, that guy I hate, Jeremy," Aubrey shuttered at his name, putting up her hands as if to choke someone. "Was absolutely _obnoxious_. I just wanna... Aghhhh!" She shook her invinsible person her was choking.

"Jeez," she laughed. "What'd he do this time?"

"Okay. So," she took in a large breath and began an extreme rant about something that he moved all of her papers to the next empty cubicle over as prank. Even though she could have said the story in a sentence, she had to make a point by enlongating the rant by ten minutes. Ten entire minutes of non-stop hatred for this guy. Chloe knew that that's what six years of college could do to a person.

Once Aubrey was done, she changed the subject away from work. "I invited Beca to come with us tonight to Marty's."

"Great! Usual get there nine thirty, have some real fun around eleven?" She exaggeratedly winked.

"Well, actually she works there so I told her she should come at ten, because her shift ends at nine," she saw the blonde's odd look. "Is that alright?"

"When we were talking she told me she had two jobs, which is kind of normal, but she never said anything about being a bartender."

"She said she just got the job too..." Chloe saw Aubrey's point. "Do you think she has three jobs?"

While putting down her work bag and keys, she bit her lip with a pondering expression. "That's a lot."

"Actually, her house was really cold and she didn't have like, any furniture. Then didn't have any plates or anything in her kitchen, but you said that she said she wasn't done packing, but she still didn't have any when I went..."

"You went to her house?" Chloe hesititanly nodded. Her best friend for twelve years saw the guilty look that was trying to be hidden. "Oh, god. What did you do?"

"I might've, uh..."

"What?" Aubrey spat.

"I sort of hugged her from be-"

"What the fuck, Chlo? You barely know her! Hell, _I_ barely know her! She probably _really_ uncomfortable, she was weird when I told her she would look hot with make-up. Not that she's ugly, not at all, but... you understand!"

"Ugh, I know, I know, but she smelled really good!"

"That's creepy. Please stop," she laughed, half mad, half amused.

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Ten o'clock was right aroubd the corner and the girls were still trying on clothes. More like Chloe, but Aubrey was picking out her shoes. Finally she settled on a light pink shortsleeve, even though it was cold it was still cute, some high waisted jeans, and her favorite Nike Juvenate whites. With a final look in the mirror she "Hm"-ed herself satisfaction.

"Damn, bitch, my bes' fren' lookin' hot!" Aubrey laughed in a silly accent. "Why short sleeve though? It's fucking freezing out."

"Beauty is pain," she breathed, doing a twirl, but having to be caught by Aubrey because she was too close to falling over.

"Jeez, it's like you're drunk without even a swig," she joked.

When they got to their destination Beca was no where to be seen. Without a number to text or call, Chloe had no idea what to do, but wait. Finally, after some long five minutes they spotted her entering. "Hey, Mitchell!" Aubrey saw her first.

She approach in dark skinny jeans and a plainest white shirt. In Chloe's opinion, not many people could fit the style, but the short girl in front of her made her gawk. "Fresh, Beca."

"Dude! I legit got these clothes at Walmart, once I get good with work you can see... the 'real' me, I guess you could say?" She snickered at her wording. Beca was definitely more relaxed than the last time they met. Perhaps not comfortable, but not awkward and stuttering.

"Yeah," the blonde's voice cut into her thoughts. "You kinda look like you just went through a super emo phase, then realized are your clothes were dark and sketchy and now don't have anythibg else to wear."

They all laughed while getting bottles. "Actually, I did go through an emo as fuck phase. I was all like 'I'm so mad at everything, arggggh!' but I was twelve so I was just dumb." The best friends laugh, but come to a stop when they saw that Beca wasn't laughing. It was funny, but the shortest of them only smirked like it was a knock-knock joke that was somewhat clever.

"Bree!" Chloe decided to steer the conversation for a bit. "You had a super weird phase too! Remember when you had this tiny time where you thought that murder was okay?"

"Oh, god..." Aubrey wheezed in a giggle.

Beca looked confused. "I thought you- aren't you an attorney or something?" She nodded and looked away with a shameful giggle.

"It's not that I was gonna do it!"

"Right, but you said that it would be beneficial to the over-population problem. Then I aked you about their family and friends and you were like, 'oh yeah..." after probably a couple weeks or something." Beca's smirk returned.

"God, Aubrey!" she teased. "You're so sadistic! Killing people would help the world." She playfully scoffed at the last sentence, making the tallest woman feel sort of like a jerk.

"I know, I know. Thank Chlo, or there would probably be a few crimes under my name."

Beca's smirk.

Chloe had practically fallen in love with her new friend's small smiles. She made it a goal to by the ebd of the night make the girl laugh a genuine laugh. The way the left side of her face barely twisted up, her lower lip forced up to keep from her teeth showing, and the way her eyes slightly squinted was just overwhelmed Chloe with an emotion that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but it was easily somethig good. When Beca looked down at her glass with that same grin, except with a wide open mouth, she couldn't help it to smile herself.

It was around eleven and they all seemed drunk enough to say hi to the guys that were checking them out. "Hey Beca," Aubrey semi-whispered. "I think that guy over there likes what he sees."

"Eh." She didn't even look in his direction.

"He's cute, see?" Chloe only watched, not really wanting the brunette to leave their little triangle.

"I don't do guys." Beca's abrupt response was unexpected. For a moment Chloe thought Beca was suddenly _extra_ cute, but then she added, "I don't do girls either." Another pause of thoughts. "I don't do anyone actually." Then she took a huge gulp of beer. She looked at the other two who had confused faces. Out of nowhere, her eyebrow arched and a mischievous grin fell. "Not for free anyway."

That broke the silence into a fit of laughter, but Aubrey calmed herself and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Eh," Beca's expression fell again to a more serious way. "I just... don't feel toward anyone." This sobered Chloe up pretty quick.

"I'm feeling a litt...le weird," she made an excuse. "I know it's kinda early, but could we?"

No one really talk in the cab back. Aubrey could tell Chloe had something up, but was too drunk to know exactly what it was. "Hey, Chlo," she leaned in to whisper in Chloe's ear. "You good?"

"Yeah," she lied. "Just my stomach, you know?" She looked back to the smaller girl who was too busy looking out the winow to notice the conversation without her. Lookibg down at the girl's hand that was propping her up so she could see better outside, she thought about how it would be to be able to touch her hand right then and it wouldn't be weird. She thought to herself, _She said she doesn't feel toward anyone, so it wouldn't be a problem, right?_ Just as she slowly was reaching out to touch it, the cab stopped. And it was like it never happened. They paid their driver and stumbled in. Maybe the alcohol was having a strange late reaction or something, so Chloe had a sudden rush of confidence. "Hey, Bree, why don't you go sober up. I'll be there in a sec."

As a slightly drunk blonde continued on the same floor toward the shared apartment, Beca started to make her way up the stairs, but Chloe caught her by the arm. "Hm?" the girl on the stairs stepped down a step to be somewhat close to eyelevel with the redhead.

Chloe's mind stammered in her own head, which she knew was completely stupid, but looking at the broken yet flawless girl infront of her, her inside couldn't help to turn to all her sudden confidence, she tried to play it out cool. "I know it's, er, really cold in your room..." Beca stood there, face emotionless. "Do you, I don't know..." the brunette finally moved. It was only a raise of an eyebrow, but it was an emotion. "Do you wanna an extra blanket?" She finally spit out, feeling silly for being nervous to say such a normal thing.

"Actually, that would be great!" Beca smile, _actually fucking smiled_...

"Okay, well we got some Dora, some Mickey Mouse, some Blue's Clues blankets," Chloe found herself joking. But in truth, they did have all those blankets. "Your pick."

"Seriously?" she left out an almost-laugh. _Almost_.

"Mhm," she fell in love with joking with her neighbor. Then, it was clear.

"Well... I used to think that Dora was my main bitch, but to be honest," she made an exaggerated drumroll against the railing. "Blue's Clues has always been my shit, so eat my ass, Dora." She flipped off an imaginary no one. They walked side by side to the older girl's apartment, got the blanket and said a friendly "goodnight"s and "thanks so much for hanging out with"s. Chloe completely forgot to ask her about texting her, but she was to busy fantasizing about what their friendship could become before falling asleep.

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 **Was kind of hard to write this. Honestly, I don't know how some people write 150k long fics. I have so many ideas, but not the patience or time to actually write it out, ughhh. Thanks so the views like always! (and, please, do tell if having Chloe's point if view is a good idea or not!)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh my lord... Eden came out with** ** _vertigo_** **and I am way too happy about it. Like, this isn't healthy.**

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Beca woke up Tuesday with her head in total work mode. She had her first day at Coffee and Junk and her first at Las Bonitas, the place she was going to play piano for. Francisco, the owner, was from the all-elegant Spain. He loved everything perfect, there wasn't a piece of lint on his crimson red capret. Though Las Bonitas was at the corner of a sketchy street, it was a definite beauty. The outside painted red and yellow, the Spanish colors, the sign had a golden frame, a man stood in the lobby checking reservations and walk-ins. It was a legitamate restaurant. On the other hand, Coffee and Junk was a typical corner cafe. The manager, Elise, was your typical diner manager. Everything about the place was really normal. Picking up good skills on the streets with being nice to her "clients," she found it pretty easy to get good tips. The only thing about the place was the name tags. They were absolutely hideous in Beca's opinion, and she knew everyone agreed. Why they didn't get rid of them was out of her knowledge. The light brown did not go well against the neon lime green.

She walked into the diner and her mind raced with work. She was a workoholic some might say. Beca was obsessed with juggling responsibilities, and was very good at it. She first began her addiction when she was fourteen and realized that it could take her mind off the abuse she received from Mr. Mitchell and the awkward stares from other kids, whispering to eachother seriously. Everyone knew she was in a low time, everyone knew she would give them a hard stare if they even tried to talk to her. All the kids knew her as "the girl you ask for a pencil" or "the girl who when they are force to present a math project would take the most complex concepts and simplify them so anyone could understand." That was until Junior year. When her father passed, she out of thd blue asked the sketchiest guys in the school for the best drugs they could find. She had a couple months where she went to school high and went home high, went to parties high and dell asleep high. Her friends that she had made at parties started to realize what was happening and shook her out of it. After a week of staying with a friend, she disappeared into her textbooks again.

Then her workoholism came around the block again, dragging her deeper in than it had previously.

The diner was great. She got generous tips and respect, like she was never a homeless hooker. The sensation of being treated as an average human being was exhilarating to her. Everytime someone said a casual "thanks" or "sure" it felt like a conversation with a friend. When people said "wanna" or "gonna" it was excitingly informal. All her relationships with teachers and peers had always been strictly polite. Scary almost. And alright, there were a few exceptional teachers, like Ms. York and her kindergarten teacher. But they were the ones who pitied her, and Beca hated being pitied. It was stupid and pointless, in her opinion.

Once her shift at the diner was done, she had about two hours to get from her morning job to Las Bonitas. Instead of walking less than a fourth of a mile per hour and the hustling, bustling sidewalks of Boston for the entire time, she thought it would be best to change into something a little more "I work at a nice second class restaurant" outfit at the apartment.

The apartment she couldn't really call home, she thought as she walked there. Home. "Home" was not apart of her vocabulary once her mother moved out. "Home" was destroyed when her father went on his his first drinking binge, more when he put his hand over her mouth at night to not wake the neighbors. Again, her part-time job after school at Market Basket easily kept her mind off everything. Constantly crunching numbers, beating the cash register to the total in her head, the busy brunette made a game that involved the quickest math adding and subtracting. Sometimes dividing, if the customer had a coupon. She enjoyed it.

With her first two hundred dollars, she bought her first and only guitar. She got to her room and laid on her bullshit of a bed. The instrument lay across the torso of the small woman while she allowed her fingers to play the notes they wanted. Without thinking, the word practically fell out of her mouth.

 _It's been a few years since you've been gone_

 _There's been a few tears, but that was years and years ago_

 _Yeah, I grew up to be exactly what you wanted_

Francis Mitchell. She felt like she disappointed him, like she was apart of the reason he did what he had. What other trigger would there have been? She knew he was being affected by his suddenly cut off marriage. He had no idea his now ex-wife was cheating. He was hurt and didn't know what to do with his anger. Beca had thought about that a few times, but the reason it had to be his own daughter who suffered the same loss, was beyond her.

 _'Cause you are not who you think you are_

 _There's no grain on these brown eyes_

 _But they can be green if they really want_

So many years of isolation, so much time of loneliness. That month of drugs and alcohol was what she marked as her favorite, yet most foolish. She thought about trying it again, returning to that other side of her. The only major thing holding her back was the money. She couldn't afford it yet, but after three years on the streets, a year or so in an apartment didn't seem too long. She craved to work. She craved to reach goals, set goals, reach them, set some more. The result was never enough.

 _But silence is better than fake laughs or faking we're we're always up_

Beca did prefer to be inconspicuous than have to fake a smile or a laugh all the time. Though with Aubrey and Chloe, she didn't feel the need to fake. They made her genuinely feel appreciated. Chloe was an all-around positive, interesting person and Aubrey was witty. She really thought she could see herself hanging out with them, drinking after her shifts and maybe a coffee in the morning. Since high school, she'd become more social, but still remained a part that she didn't show to just anyone, and no one yet. These two neighbors of hers, she knew, had a good chance.

One her way down the stair, she was caught by Chloe who was just walking in. "Hey, Beca. Where you off to?"

"Um, hey. I was- was just going to work," she had always had a bad habit of mumbling faster than what her lips could keep up with.

"Work? Didn't you go this morning too?" The red furrowed a brow.

"Uh," Beca knew there was no use in lying, the world would find out soon enough. "I did, but I got another job."

"And Marty's?"

"Well I suppose that makes three," she apologetically smile. That was a bad habit of hers; apologizing for no reason. She guessed that was onf of the side effects of thinking you're a terrible person.

"Oh god, aren't you tired?"

"Nah. But I gotta get going, it's my first day at this one!" she turned to go, but Chloe stopped her for a moment.

"Wait, what's the job?"

She really hated people knowing she was a music freak. Partly because they would ask to hear, partly because the guitar was the only instrument she had available to play for them. And just in general, all her songs were sad. Everything just sounded best to her in the minor scales. Concluding to this, she'd point her just slightly in the wrong way. "I work at Las Bonitas. It's pretty nice actually," she took a glance at the clock hung on the wall. "But seriously, I gotta go."

"Good luck!" Her face had kind of a look that reminded her of the way she looked at her guitar.

"Thanks!" She called out before Chloe could reach her for a hug. If the redhead had made it to her, she wouldn't even know what to do. The last time she had physical affection was... she couldn't even remember. It was probably a pat of a scruff of her hair from her mother. Maybe not. Who knows.

The restaurant was crowded. Beca wondered what kind of miracle allowed her to be employed. She managed to put her stuff down at a work's cubby in the back. Cubby. She hadn't had a cubby since third grade. Trying not to think much on her past, she pulled out a few pieces of sheet music, but Francisco cane to her first. "Hey, you can call me Fran," very, very thick Spanish accent. "These are a few commonly requests. You mix them in with..." he peered over her shoulder, giving an approving nod at her sheets.

"Yeah, of course." She made her way over to the piano feeling a little lightheaded. He was too close, and she had been holding her breath for too long.

The grand piano was definitely grand. Its shiney black paint contrasted well with the bleach white keys. _Damn_ , Beca thought, _this is the real fucking deal._ She sat down almost cautiously on the cushioned seat. Afraid to damage anything, she placed the papers carefully. First up, _Gymnopedie No. 1_. The tiny pianist barely needed to even glance at the sheet music. Her long, slender fingers tickled the black and white keys beautifully. Before she played the instrument, she hated her hands for being so big in comparison to her body, but now she was grateful for the odd appearance.

The Gymnopedie finished and she delt like her blood was in flames. The adrenaline rush overwhelmed her as she started on the next, and the next ,and the next. Beca was so consumed in the sound that she hadn't noticed that a red name Chloe Beale had followed her to initially thinking she could be the first for the newest employee to wait. Instead, she was in awe of the ability of the unexpected and suddenly remembered where she had seen Beca Mitchell.

Beca was that hobo down on sixth street...

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 **Sorry for the delay. Meant to finish this earlier, but my brain can only think one thing at a time I guess. The first song was crash by Eden, which is on his new album that I in fucking love with. And the Gymnopedie is hopefully obviously by Erik Satie in the late nineteeth century. Thanks, like always, for the support. It means so much, especially right now.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Important chapter. Let's say hi to another person? :)** i had legit nothing to do today so i wrote it all in like, eight hours. i feel kind of naked without bold in my a/n... ew.

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Chloe finally made out the guts to go say hi to her apparently pianist of a neighbor. "Hey, Bec. Heard you play some," she noticed the girl raise her brow at the new nickname. "It was real nice."

"Thanks, it's fun too," Beca smiled. "Did you need something?"

"Um," she started. "I thought you were going to be a waitress or something so I decided, 'Why not!' I was hungry anyway."

"Oh, have you eaten already?" The brunette hadn't eaten lunch, she'd run out of lasagna by then. She was starved.

"Nah, actually. Watching you play is just way too interesting than eating." She saw Beca's face turn a little flushed when she peeped out a thank. Chloe giggled at the sight.

"Uh, if you want, there's a cafe a couple blocks down," the pianist was getting really flustered. It was too cute, the ginger didn't stop her. "Well, you probably know it. I mean, maybe you don't. I'm not sure. They got like, coffee and bagels. You know that place? Well, every cafe probably has bagels. Unless they're a poor-ass business, then maybe they don't." The shade of red grew darker and darker by the sentence. Chloe finally put her hands and stopped the younger girl.

"Beca. Breathe." She laughed at her and continued. "That would be great. But I _insist_ on paying." The shorter one opened her mouth to protest, but Chloe got to the words first. "No buts." The thing about three jobs, no heat, and not even a plate in the apartment bothered her. She knew that the least she could do was try to help her pay for the things she could.

They walked down the sidewalk side by side not saying much. The chill of late mid December plus the blows of gale had them walking close to each other. Beca was very conscious when inhaling and exhaling, but her newest friend was close enough to make her stop. The got in the shop and took a seat by the window to put their things down. For Chloe, that was a jacket. For Beca, it was a sweater. For Chloe, a bagel and some decaf. For Beca, some soup. Finally Chloe started the conversation. "So for how long have you been playing piano?"

Beca took a moment to swallow before thinking. "Uh, like..." she checked her watch. "Four hours twenty three minutes and... forty-five seconds or so."

"The hell does that mean?!" The red didn't understand how anyone could possibly ever learn an instrument in almost an instant.

"Well, the keys are like the frets on a guitar. The black keys are a half-step, the whites a full-step. Except B and C and E and F, because those..." she thought for a moment trying to think of the right word. "Those are like a full-step that don't need a half. Maybe."

"What?" Chloe was lost at the word "frets." It was all interesting to her though. "So what instruments you play then?"

"Guitar, of course. I used to sneak into the band room in high school and try out the cello. Um... I _can_ do drums, but I'm not too great," the girl in front of her scoffed doubting Beca could ever be "not too great" at anything having to do with music. "And like, just different kinds of strings, like ukulele or banjo." Beca smiled, happy she could remember all of them.

"And apparently piano now," Chloe gawked at the number. "I tried it in middle school, but then my friends quit so I did too. Wasn't really into it much. Singing in an acapella group in college though, that was fun."

"Ooh, acapella?" Beca made a face. "Fun."

"Hey!" she exclaimed lightly slapping her arm. "Aubrey did it with me. We were called the Barden Bellas."

Beca couldn't contain her laugh. Chloe noted the way she squinted her eyes and her shoulders moved up and down in rhythm to the laugh. "That's probably one of the lamest things I ever heard."

"It wasn't!" she said taking a sip of decaf. "We competed in tournaments, and even occasionally did pretty well. Don't tell me you never went through a phase through college."

"Ha! I didn't because I didn't even go to college, so fuck me up."

"Gladly," Chloe winked. Beca's face turned to a deep red the way it had before. Except she wasn't nervous, just scared. Petrified even, that anyone would say such a thing to her. Of course, she had practically set it up for her, but that one word statement made her hand shake under the table. She knew Chloe was kidding with her, but the thought of being this comfortable around anyone suddenly hit her.

Once the flush was gone they were back to it again. "So the Barden Balls was were you and Aubrey met?"

"Bellas," Chloe faked glared at her. "But no. We'd played volleyball against each other in high school. She was in our 'rival' school."

"Scandalous."

"Yeah," she snickered. "Our games were always neck to neck. I'm pretty sure we won as many as we lost against them, so we were tied for first in the county and the four surrounding until our last game which they won by only two points. Two damn points. You know how frustrated I was?"

"That must've _sucked._ " Beca was never good at helping people with their issues, and it was probably showing then. "You guys ever beat real good though?"

"Oh yeah, once, we got them really good. We won by like, seven I think. It was a really good one for us," Chloe smiled. For the first time, Beca really watched Chloe smile. Anyone, for the matter, actually. She looked into her eyes for a half a second. She never looked people in the eye, always at their eyebrows or the bridge of their nose. No one had ever called her out on it, and she had taken a selfie where she was looking at herself the way she looks at other people and it looked just fine. When they met eyes, the tiny brunette felt something bust open inside her, although it didn't last long.

With one glance out the window, the world stopped.

One the other side of the busy street stood a woman. But not just any woman, a tall one with light brown hair and grey-blue eyes. Her eyebrows were arched perfectly and full lips. Someone could easily say she looked flawless, anyone who knew her could say her personality was a perfect mix of crazy, nice, and funny. Even her slightly crooked teeth matched her. She was undeniably pretty. Even to Beca.

"Bec, you still here?" Chloe asked seeing that her friend was staring out the window.

"I- I'mma be back in two seconds..." she whispered while still staring out the window. "Just... just two."

She put on her sweater and hurried out the cafe door. Luckily, the crosswalk was letting people go then. The little woman made her way behind the much taller woman as she called out, "Stacie!"

It didn't even take a second time for Stacie to hear her name to turn around and jump into Beca's open arms. "Mitchell! Holy shit! Where the hell'd you go?" Ironically, she was being held by the brunette well. "Oh my god, where've you been?" She began to sob into her shoulder as she was being let down, but still hugging her. "I- missed you- so much." Stacie managed through gasps of air. "I- thought you- you were dead."

"Come sit down with Chloe, my neighbor, and I. I'll get you some coffee or something." Beca's eyes stung, but she didn't dare let a tear fall. "And I guess I missed you too," she smirked.

Chloe sat at the table watching the interaction. She saw the way Beca allowed this new woman to hug her and cry on her. When Chloe touched her, she would move away or flinch, but this girl just went straight in and the skittish girl let her. Chloe wouldn't admit it, but she was jealous. She wanted to see who this person was and decide if they really deserved it. For a moment she thought that, but in the next she realized how dumb she was being. The tall, beautiful woman probably knew Beca well and they were most likely very good friends. She watched them come back to the cafe smiling and laughing at each other while coming in.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that. Chloe, this is Stacie. We went through grade school together." She smiled at Stacie, like they were sharing some joke telepathically.

"Hey, nice to meet you," the tallest of them greeted.

"Hi," Chloe returned. "You guys were best friends?"

"Oh yeah, I'd wish I could say more than that but-"

"Shut up, Stace," she turned deadly white, making Stacie's flawless laugh even better.

"Love ya too."

"Mh," Beca hummed, still smirking. "Thank you so much, Chloe. I really wanna catch up with my bes' frien'" she looked up at Stacie. "We'll hang out later?"

Now Chloe felt terrible for feeling jealous. Stacie, way prettier than her, in her opinion, was silly and nice and she couldn't help but want Beca, who was the person she just wanted to be comfortable around and her be comfortable around herself. It seemed as though her little crush was chill with everyone around her, meaning Aubrey and Stacie. Beca was the water, she was the island.

Back at Beca's apartment, Stacie, like everyone, had asked about the cold. Except this time, the guitarist/pianist/a ton of other shit gave a different answer. "Yeah, I'm not completely set for money. Can't really get the heat yet," they set down their stuff and sat on the wooden floor next to each other. "So what brings you to the every so lovely Boston?"

"I got a really good job offer for the summer and they just wanted an interview. What about you? How long you been here?"

"Well. It's really complicated, Stace. And it has to do with 'The Disappearance of Beca Mitchell.' Makes me super emotional when just think about it. I'd hate to ruin our little reunion with some deep shit."

"Okay, but of or when you're ready to let it out, come to me, yeah?"

She looked up to her best friend and let a genuine smile slide onto her face. "Of course."

"Alrighty, you mind if I crash here? I was going to go to a hotel before you kidnapped me and forced me to hang out with you."

"Dude, you're the one who bear hugged and cried all over my sweater."

"I was worried about you," she moved Beca's hair to look at her face better. "I kinda still am."

They sat in a peaceful silence until they fell asleep, the taller girl's head in the other's lap. Beca was never sure why she only ever let Stacie touch her this way. Before they were friends she was always jumpy around her, like when she would just put her hands on her she would arch her back and pull away. Now they were closer than she ever was with anyone. That she wanted anyway. Mr. Mitchell... she still got nightmares from him. He never went full on, but at times it sure looked like he was about to. When he was around, she wasn't friends with Stacie. They had met at one the the frat parties when she was a drug addict for two months. Her now best friend was the one who took her in, who shook her out of her bad choices. She was very emotional at the time and let a lot of thing out, like about her mother and father. She never told Stacie about her father's death though. No one knew about that one. Beca wasn't just an emotional wreck at the time. Naturally, she was silly and sometimes, maybe on a good day, she would say or do the stupidest things that made them bond well. They so well, some people (like Chloe) thought they had a thing for each other. Chloe suspected Beca said that she was asexual because she wanted to stay with Stacie. Which was dead wrong. Stacie was great, but Beca had never questioned herself because of her best friend. Which was odd because Beca never felt like she needed to prove herself to the tallest or to Aubrey, but Chloe? Chloe was definitely someone else, she just couldn't put her finger to what it was about her. Her smile? Her laugh? The way she jokes mad when she could never even imagine a negative emotion on her? What was it?

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 **Heya, long-ish-er? Thanks so much for the support like always, y'all are too nice. Tell me what you think.. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**_TRIGGER WARNING:_ Talking about her father, how he died and what she did with his body. To be honest, it kind freaks me out to write it.**

 **Sorry, for the late update, ugh. Y'all just ever get a week where you're so fucking dead inside? It sucks. I'm like "stfu bitch" to anyone who tries with me, haha :) Thanks so much for the reviews, they're what keeps me writing to be honest.**

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"Ugh, my head," Stacie whispered.

"Dude, stop fucking yelling."

The two woke up around noon and could not wait for the sun to go down for the next round of sleep. Their heads felt like shit and all their body was sore from sleeping on the hard wooden floor. Before they could drift off again, Stacie barely audibly whispered, "I gotta go home tomorrow, Bec."

That woke the tiny brunette up enough to go light a match for some coffee. "You gonna catch a cab? 'Cause this kinda a lot for a cab."

"I guess I'm gonna have to," she pouted.

"Actually," a great idea plopped itself into Beca's hungover brain. "Aubrey has a car. I could ask her for a quick lift. I'll pay for gas money if you want."

"Nah, I can do that. But who's Aubrey again?" said Stacie, knowing her friend's financial state of being.

"Oh, she's Chloe's roommate. They're like, best friends or whatever. The ones who live downstairs," she sipped her cup. "What time's it- oh. OH. I don't think she's working today. Wanna come with to ask?"

"Ugh," she moaned lifting herself up toward the coffee. "I guess, but give a bit to fix myself up. You have a shower, right?"

Beca laughed. "Yeah, but it's fucking _cold_. Good luck!" Stacie headed to the bathroom, curious on how cold. She found her answers before she could yell "fuck" again. The tiny girl snickered at her friend, she was used to the temperature by now. In general, she was used to everything. Although, she sometimes got a feeling in her stomach when she saw Chloe. The feeling felt stronger when contact was made. It was like an acidic liquid spread all throughout her abdomen. It made her want to vomit, but at the same time keep it. She wasn't really sure why the awkward lump in her throat grew about ten times when the redhead was around. She brushed it off, thinking it had something to do with the fact that Chloe always seemed to be in her personal space. Occasionally, though, she would find herself breathing just fine when the other was in an invasive mood. It was all different, like her subconscious was trying to tell her something, but she's trying too hard to know what it's saying.

"Hey," said Stacie, coming out of the bathroom, lips purple. "I was thinking. Are you not going to your dad's? I mean, he doesn't do anything anymore right?" Beca's breath suddenly became quick. She tried to think of a suitable lie, but she took too long. "Bec?"

"I- he- um," she stuttered. "I can't. But no, he doesn't do that stuff anymore." _Bec_ _ause he's dead_ , she added in her thoughts.

The taller girl saw the mix of emotions go the the shorter girl's face. She made them out to be either angry or upset, maybe a little bit of frustration. "How come?"

"He doesn't live there anymore." Technically, she hadn't lied through their entire conversation. It did bring up old feelings of hatred and disgust toward herself though. "He, uh, he moved." _Bullshit._

Stacie wasn't convinced. She knew not to force it out of her friend, but she wasn't okay with being lied to. "Seriously? You don't think I don't know when you lie to me, right?" She saw the look of sickness on Beca's face. The tiny brunette ran away to the bathroom and threw up, over and over again. She used to get terrible flashbacks of the night. After two years of no flashes, one rose to the surface.

 _She was walking back to her house from school, the last day before winter break. Beca got to the front porch, took the hidden keys from under the flowerpot and unlocked the door, like every other day. As usual, she put her school bag down in the kitchen and made a sandwich, peanut butter to be specific. Her father was often in his room, sleeping or having a mental breakdown. She had learned to leave him alone. Harshly. But everyday he would call her name and ask her to bring him some food. This time, nothing. Beca didn't think much of it though. When a bullet went off upstair, she did think a lot of it. She didn't even need to think to know what had happen. The sandwich fell from her mouth as her eyes began to water. She knew Francis was depressed, she knew he wanted to die, because so did she. But never did she think he would commit to the idea. She crept up the stairs shaking. Her hand on the rail was tight, it slightly cracked beneath her grip. The girl let out a sob, "Dad?" Nothing. She was behind his closed door. She could only imagine what he looked like. The paper clip in her hands picked at the locked door. The shake in her hands was too much to even get it in the little hole. After what seemed like forever, it unlocked. Her sobs grew louder by the second, she hated herself for not helping him get over what he was going through. His body hanged from a rope and a bullet pierced through his head. The gun was on the floor, no more ammunition. Beca knew that if there was anything still in that gun, she would've crawled up on the floor and killed herself too. She cried and screamed at nothing. Knowing that the body would reek if she left it there, she went out to the backyard. Farther than their property was an open field where only a tree stood. She brought with her a shovel and a measuring tape._

 _"_ Oh my god, are you alright now?" Stacie sounded more worried than she should have been, thought Beca. Though the flashback made her fall on the ground, knocking her head on the side of the toilet in the meantime, she knew she was going to be alright.

The shock of the images that rushed through her mind made her shake. Her hands trembled as she spoke. "Yeah..." she notice she was a little out of breath. "Look, I..." she sighed and gave gave up on her sentence.

Stacie gave her a questioning look. They both hated that the taller of the two had to go the next day, but she had to be home for the holiday, she had promised her mother. She decided she would ask for her favorite friend to come with her. "Why don't you come with? I mean, my mom's probably got some space. If not, you can always sleep in my bed and I can take the floor or something." She paused to think of good ways to say what she was trying to say. "You can't have these... panic attacks-"

"They're not panic attacks," interjected Beca, now lightly sniffling.

"Okay, well you can't have these "not-panic-attacks-but-freaky-ass-things" without someone here with you. You know you passed out for a good half hour, right?" she challenged. Beca stayed quiet. She hadn't known that she was away from conscious for so long. "I was going to call 911 for you." _Thank god you didn't._ Without any insurance, that surely would've been a mess.

"But I gotta work," she replied softly. "I gotta pay bills. And I can't ask for a week because I have three jobs, remember? I doubt all three would let me go for so long. Would they?"

"Well, Beca," said Stacie in a " _you're so dumb, but silly"_ type of voice. "That's why you ask!"

Beca scoffed. A sudden eruption through her body made her mind remember what there is for her in Maine. The pale, dead body. The cold skin, the fingernails a ghostly white. When she came back to the house, hole made, the eyes where creepily sunken in, the hands a blue-purple. She remembered the way the skin felt waxy in her hands. The fact that she had to carry her father's dead body at least half of a mile out to his barely marked grave was too much for her to handle. The trickling of tears burst through her eyes while she put the dirt back in the hole. The last she would see of him was easily the most traumatic. What child should have to bury their own parent? No child, that's for sure.

She threw up. Beca almost couldn't take it. "I have a disgusting secret," she took a large moment to recover from the recent vomit. "I think if I step a foot anywhere I know in-" her voice made a squeaky crack, making her eyes fill with water again. "-in Maine... I don't know what I'll do, but not something good." Stacie looked at her patiently, knowing that Beca would tell her if she wanted to. "But- I ca-n't say. I'm- sorry," she let out between choppy sobs.

"I'll ask Chloe, then, to keep an eye on you." Beca only complied with a nod. "You don't have to drive me, Bec." The girl simply nodded again. "C'mon. Help me go to this Aubrey girl to steal her car. Maybe I should purposely get a DUI in her car." They both let a shaky snicker out.

* * *

 **So, so very sorry about this super late update. Sports are just coming around the corner and I really just haven't been finding the time or patience to write everything out. That's really not a good excuse, I know, but it happened. Ugh, I'm just so mad at everyone and everything. Thanks for the read though!**


	8. Chapter 8

They stepped out of the car reluctantly. Beca helped Stacie take out her duffel bag of clothes. And the other bag of makeup. And the other-other bags of toiletries. The girls really had everything she could imagine for the one week trip for only an interview. As Beca stuffed the last bag in the Uber, she took a step back with her head down. "When I get a phone, you'll be my first contact, okay?"

"Of course, Mitchell," she looked down at their feet while a understanding silence fell on them. "But please, let Chloe help you. I can see it that you guys get on real good. Please don't tell her to fuck off or anything 'Beca'-y."

She continued staring at her shoes, but chuckled. "Damn it, Conrad. Just go before I cry in front of you," the petite brunette looked up to give her a watery, forced smile, telling that she didn't mean what she said in a negative way.

Their hug lasted as long as the Uber driver would let them. "Alrighty..." he implied as the two sniffled into each other's shoulders. When they let go Stacie had let the tears fall, but Beca on the other hands, swallowed her emotions and pulled back away toward Aubrey's car.

"Bye, Mitchell."

"Yeah," she croaked, not looking in the direction of the other car. "Bye." As soon as the car was out of sight, she smashed her hands on the pavement of the empty Market Basket parking lot where they had met up with the driver. "Argh!" she half yelled to no one. She got in the car, sobbing. She turned on the radio to attempt for a distraction.

 _'Cause I don't wanna lose you now_

 _I'm lookin' right at the other half of me_

 _The vacancy that sat-_

She hit away at the radio, turning it off. Her face was still wet when she got off the highway about an hour and a half later. She arrived at her apartment feeling gloomy. The cold room sent shivers through her ribs as she shut the door behind her room. An ache set itself into her chest. Her bones felt too heavy for her to carry any longer. She lay back on her bed, which was barely a bed, and relaxed into her sorrow. She gazed up at the water-stained ceiling to allow her thoughts to rush through her mind, freely. _Why won't I just go to bed and not wake up in the morning. It happens to some people. Why can't one of them be me? Why do I have to stay any longer?_ Beca drifted off into a light nap, but awoke when she heard a knock at the door. Uneager, she made her way to the door. "Coming. Who's it?"

"Chloe."

"Chloe who?" she tried to joke, but it sounded more tired than jokingly, making Chloe think she was serious."

"Uh, Chloe Beale? Your neighbor? We went out to lunch the other day?" Beca opened the door with a droopy smile.

"You're no fun. I thought it would be my one and only chance to live out a knock knock joke." The redhead at the door smiled as the brunette let her through. "So what brings you to the great upstairs?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to see you," she kept her bubbly vibe going through the room.

"Stacie told me. You don't have to, really."

"I want to. Initially, she asked Aubrey you know."

"Oh," Beca sighed. she was exhausted from everything going on in her head. "Are you like, trying to get to know me or something?"

"Of course, silly!" she said maybe a little too loud for the other girl's mood. "I want to know everything about you. At the coffee shop we were going places, it was-" Chloe stopped herself from saying "perfect," because that might come off as super weird. "It was great!"

"Oh- okay."

Chloe took a step toward Beca. The fragile stopped breathing, she didn't even notice, but the taller girl did. "I want to know about you. Like why you hold your breath when someone's too close." Beca put her hand up to her nose to take a quick breath in. "Or why your finger or so proportionately long." The girl felt cornered. She cracked her knuckles nervously. "Or why you never look me in the eye when we talk." _Damn_ , Beca thought, _She had noticed. Hell, she notices a lot of things about me. That's... oddly caring._

"Um. As you can tell, I'm uh... a very awkward person," she cleared her throat and looked to the side to take a few breaths.

Chloe took her hand and led her out the door. "Come on. It's getting kind of late. Let's play a game at mine."

They made their way down the building. The brunette could believe she just let the red take her hand like that. It felt so natural. It felt right. They sat on Chloe's bed in her room. The clock said 10:00 PM with a bright green light. "So what game?"

"Twenty questions, because that's easily the best game to get to know someone," she smiled. Her smile, Beca thought, was perfect. The way it seemed to light up her whole face- no, the whole room was perfect. "Do you wanna go first?"

"Sure," she took a moment to think of a question. "Where'd you get that lasagna recipe? 'Cause it's fucking awesome."

Chloe giggled at the other girl's antics. "My mom used to make me cook with her all the time. I used to hate it, but now I find it really handy." Beca nodded her head as she smiled, still a little tired from before. "My turn, I'll start with the ones from earlier. Why do you hold your breath around people?"

She thought hard, not really knowing the answer herself. "I'm not sure. I've always done it. It's not like you smell bad or anything," she laughed a bit. "It's just a habit. You got any weird habits like that?"

The redhead looked up at the ceiling with a thoughtful look. "Sometimes I crack my toes to the point they're sore the next day." The girl in front of her laughed an airy chortle.

"That's good to know. Often?"

"Well, when I'm super stressed I just... I _have_ to!" They shared a moment of laughter, but soon continued. "You want a drink? I have some vodka if you want." She got up from the bed they were sat at to adjust her pants back up her waist.

"Nah. I don't really drink outside bars. Thanks though."

"Not even a shot?" Chloe pouted. "It'll make this easier."

With the lip jutted out like that, Beca could not say no. "Fine, fine, fine. But this is an exception, okay?" They each took a shot, instantly feeling a little lightheaded. "So what's the next?"

"Oh, right. Uhh... Oh, yeah! Why're you're fingers so damn long? Like a fucking spider." She had already taken another shot.

Beca chuckled a little at the red. "I have arachnodactyly. It's like when my fingers and toes are a lot longer and skinnier than they're supposed to be. Helps me play piano and guitar anyway." She shrugged. "It's weird that I'm legit barely over five feet, but have it."

Chloe reached out and grabbed her hand, examining every finger. "That's so... I don't know. Cool, but weird, but awesome, but strange. What the hell." She took a moment to look up at her friend who was awkwardly smiling at her. Chloe got really close to her face out of nowhere. Once their noses were almost touching, she registered that Beca looked extremely uncomfortable. She couldn't help but look down at the brunette's lips. They looked so soft and touchable. "Can I see your toes? What size shoe do you wear?"

"Um," Beca looked to the side of them to take a few chuckling breaths. "I wear a size nine and a half." She ducked her head in embarrassment. She used to get made fun of because of the deformity. She always knew that it shouldn't have been such a big deal and that the kids who were harassing her didn't actually mean to be rude, they didn't know better.

"What the hell," her breath smelled like the alcohol just a little. "I'm like, two inches taller than you and I wear eights."

Beca allowed and uneasy, sober laugh. "Yeah, people would call me a monkey if I ever wore any shoes that they could see my toes," she said trying to imply that the questions should stop.

"Well that's not real nice," Chloe frowned. "I like that you're different." She genuinely smiled.

"Thanks," she said small, beginning to rise. "Hm. I know we didn't get through twenty, but maybe we should finish them later." She made her way to the bedroom door and was out in a jiffy.

As she was almost out the apartment door, Chloe called out to her. "Beca, wait." Beca stopped, one long foot out the door. "Do you wanna stay the-" She trailed off quietly into a stop.

"What'd you say?" Beca questioned, really not hearing what the older girl had mumbled.

"Nevermind, it's nothing. Have a good night. Work safe tomorrow!" Beca snickered at the wording.

"Will do. Bye!" She hurried up the stairs, two steps at a time. Her mind rushed through what had happened. One moment she looked like she was going to kiss her, the next she was talking about shoes. Chloe was definitely "ADHD Crazy," as she would call it, but it was almost adorab- no people are not adorable. Animals, maybe, but not people. People are cruel and go out of their way to make you feel terrible about yourself. Although Chloe looked so likeable, she might just be a monster inside, Beca thought. She couldn't really imagine Chloe abusing anyone, not even being disrespectful to anyone. Beca could never trust anyone though, including her kind neighbors. Aubrey was chill too, but it was something about the redhead that the blonde didn't quite have. It wasn't clear to her what the attraction was, she never took the time to think hard enough about it. Her life was work at the moment. Go to work, sleep, work, eat, work, sleep, work... the same pattern infinitely.

Beca lay in her bed, still thinking about the event. Her skin tingled at the dream-like way Chloe had studied her hands. " _I like that you're different,_ " rung in her ears. The barely a whisper made her ear feel like the could twitch. A numbness made it's way from her face toward her neck. She realized she'd been think about her drunkenly friendly neighbor a lot that night. To rip her mind away from the nonsensical thoughts she made a decision to play her guitar outside for a bit. It was around one in the morning at the time, so maybe there would be a few dollar bills waiting for her in the familiar streets.

Her spider-like fingers crawled up and down the neck of the guitar while the other elongated fingers picked at the strings near the bottom. Her voice and instrument were the only sounds in the dark night of December.

 _Where'd all the good people go?_

 _I've been changing channels_

 _I don't see the on the TV shows_

 _Where'd all the good people go?_

 _We got heaps and heaps of what we sow_

A now normal discomfort in her stomach of hunger told her to go back to the apartment. As she made her way back, three more dollars richer than before, she barely smiled. The days of freezing limbs and sickness were over. Well, sickness was still partly there. She was pretty sure there was something wrong, but she could never go to a doctor. Not until she at least could afford heated water. It was like she was so depressed sometimes and wanted to die, but other times she could fly through the day without thinking. It was when autopilot was turned on the Beca would be on top of the world. She knew that that wasn't alright, but it was better than being a drug addict or weed enthusiast. She'd tried a small portion of weed in her two month stupid idea, but didn't end up getting hooked. She was glad because even through that tiny time period, she looked a few years or so older than she was. At 21 she was much more mature than most her age. The fact that she looked around 25 and the maturity made people not believe she was her age. Chloe and Aubrey were definitely in their mid twenties and they both thought Beca was the same, but it was an easy mistake. Everyday, Beca thanked the universe for Stacie. If it wasn't for her, she would most likely still be on the street with meth and crack in her blood. Stacie was an exception to the "don't trust anyone" rule. She was her best friend, someone special. With Chloe around all the time then trying to keep and eye on the rehabilitated tiny brunette, maybe she would turn to someone important also. Maybe Aubrey too.

* * *

 **First song was Mirrors by Justin Timberlake, second was Good People by Jack Johnson. Love them both :) Thanks for the reads and other things!**


	9. Chapter 9

**TRIGGER WARNING Some drugs. I'm not sure if that can be considered a trigger, seeing as I've never experienced it, but better safe than sorry I guess.**

 **There's a flashback on when she was on drugs, but I've never been high before (I'm fourteen, not prude) so please forgive if it's not accurate. I tried to read about what it feels like, but it's challenging to write about something you've never experienced.**

 **Let's have some Aubrey-Beca bonding time, yeah?**

* * *

Christmas Eve.

Her family, even when she was a young child, made the indefinite settlement to not celebrate anything. No birthdays, no holidays, nothing. It was never for religious reasons, they simply (Beca guessed) didn't want to spend the time and effort to plan and execute the plan. Occasionally, when she needed new clothes usually, one of her parents would "surprise" her with a trip to the mall. She never took their viewpoint to be a bad thing, she'd grown up with forgetting it was her birthday until she looked at the calendar a week after. It wasn't a big deal, never was. Perhaps she didn't think much of it because she was never exposed to other people's celebration. Of course, she would always sit away from the other kids to draw in elementary school on Mother's Day, Father's Day, Halloween, and every other prestigious holiday in public schools.

"Are you sure you have nothing more to do tonight?" asked Fran. "I know I pay triple on holidays, but really. You must have _some_ free time at some point, no?"

Beca loved the guy, he was straight to the point and loved his job, but when he questioned personal things like these, it was a bit nerve wracking. "Personal" was not her relationship style. "No, no. I'd love to play tonight, keeps my mind busy." She offered a smile, which he understandingly took in.

Chloe had to go to her parents' house for the holidays, leaving Aubrey to spend the holidays alone. She had invited Beca to pass the isolated time, but the brunette didn't take the hint that she was truly wanted. She thought the blonde had made the suggestion to be polite. So Aubrey lay on her couch, waiting for the sugar cookies to bake at nine thirty in the night. The lightly playing Christmas music made the situation's vibe rather depressing. She wished she could have gone to her parents' home, but Mr. Posen was planning to station somewhere across the country, so it wouldn't be helpful if she went in needing to settle in for a few days. Her father wouldn't allow her to come home, he told her she could take the time to be with her friends. What he didn't know was that they were all with their families, having a good time as a unit. Well, except Beca, but she hadn't realized her neighbor was in town. When she was declined the offer to stay over, she assumed that she was gone like the other. Nope.

That's why, at eleven in the night, Aubrey was curious on who the person behind the door could be. When it was Beca with a thoughtful bottle of wine, the blonde made her set the bottle down before bending down for a hug. The helpless younger woman attempted a scramble out of it. Her breathing became labored, but returned to the average once she was let go of. "Sorry," Aubrey peeped.

"It's all good," she breathed unintentionally heavy.

An awkward silence draped over the two until the older of them spoke. "I thought you were away?"

"Nah," Beca felt a bit bad for leaving her on a lonesome night. "I, um, I was working. You know, they give you a shit ton extra for holiday. Just finished and thought I would see you. Since like, you're not with anyone right now. Sorry..." Her voice trailed off to be quiet.

"It's alright," they sat at the couch. "I reasoned that you'd be with family. Not this year?"

"Nah," not technically a lie, right? "We don't really celebrate Christmas anyway, so doesn't really bother me. What about you?" She could see that they could bond a tight friendship that night.

Aubrey avoided the last question. "That's different. Are you Jewish?"

It had made Beca a little that she was the one making all the answers. "No, we-" she stuttered over that word. "W-, um. We don't celebrate. It's nothing to do with religion. The-" another stutter over the word. She cleared her throat. "Uh, they hate celebrations, so we- as a..." she felt sick to say the words. "We as a family," it was a difficult phrase. "never do anything."

"Seriously? What about birthdays? Not even New Years?" Aubrey seemed almost exasperated.

"I've never had a birthday party," instead of keeping the dull mood in the air she joked, "One year I went a month without knowing I had turned ten. My dad had to check my birth certificate before confirming my mistake." She laughed. Aubrey didn't. It was more of an uneasy smile from the blonde. She could tell by the lightness that it was said with, it wasn't meant to come off as somber.

"Oh..." She wasn't really sure what to reply. "So it doesn't bother you if I give you a present and cookies?"

Beca was taken aback by the considerate gesture. "It doesn't bother me, but I kind of feel like a bad person for not having anything in return for you. I'm sorry. I can get you something late though."

"God, no! It's all good. Besides, giving is a great thing for me to practice," Aubrey chuckled. "So when did you graduate? Assuming you graduated of of course..."

Beca laughed out loud. "Yeah, I did in fact get by high school. Just a few years ago. Class of '08." She smiled, knowing she was going to be asked to repeat her age.

As suspected, Aubrey's expression contorted to become bewildered. "You couldn't have graduated when you were... what twenty three?"

"Nope, I had just turned eighteen that year. I'm twenty one right now."

"But you're so mature and you look-"

"Old. I know. This summer I'll be four years sober from drugs." _Eh, what the heck._ Beca thought. _If I want a healthy friendship, can't lie. For the most part._ The blonde's face softened.

"Congrats," she whispered. "Did you go to rehab? Shit, what about your dad? Was he mad?"

The brunette contemplated on how to answer. "Stacie was my rehab, the tall pretty one. Yeah, I lived with her for some good months plus. That's how we became best friends, we weren't from the same school at all." She chose to ignore the last two questions. Although she knew already, she asked, "So how'd you Chloe meet?"

Aubrey carried on with the familiar story, whilst Beca nodded and inquired the same information, brainlessly. Her mind was rushing on with drugs and how they had affected her. She reminisced on a specific night. Despite being high, she could play the memory like it had been the day before.

 _The sky was a giggly blue, saturated. Her brain made everything spin with colors. Her nose felt a little funny, something that could almost be pain, but she was too high to register that. After snorting two lines of basement coke, two pairs of bloodshot eyes gazed at the girl felt as if she were on top of the clouds, lying down in an open field. "Beca?! Beca?!" was heard out in the distance, but she didn't realize that was her name. Instead, she got up and stumbled across the land into a road. The voice calling the name became faint as the brunette made her trek. Suddenly, a vehicle slammed on its breaks in the dark night. Luckily for the stoner, the it was only a car that nudged her into a palms first fall. The gravel on the pavement made the wound hurt like a bitch. As the voice came nearer, she was being carried off toward where she had come from. It was Stacie who picked her up. There was a clearness in her eyes that indicated she was sober. Tears truckled down Beca's face, but she wasn't sure why. An attempt to apologize followed, but the words couldn't seem to form in her mouth._

Beca was always a great multitasker, which included listening and thinking. When Aubrey was done, the blonde was asking Beca about her mother. By then, Beca wasn't as mad as she had been, but if the woman thought she could ever just waltz back into her life, she would be dead wrong. There was still pain and hate for the touchy subject. "She left me and my dad,"" she replied as casually as possible. She began to play with her calluses on the tips of her fingers, an uncomfortable habit. "For a woman."

"Do you guys still talk at least?" Aubrey had a pained expression as thr blonde girl thought, _Geez, this girl's been through a ton._

Beca didn't look up from her hands. "Nope. I haven't seen her in eleven years." She laughes, "I can't even remember what her voice sounds like anymore. Whatever."

"Yeesh, and I thought my parents were messed up."

"How do you mean?"

"Well my dad is an army commander and he's always up my ass about 'being a Posen.' Honestly, I gsve up trying to live up to his expectations a few years ago. If I got an A minus in any class, he'd tell me I hadn't tried hard enough. If I got an A plus, he'd ask me if I tried for extra credit. My mom wasn't so crazy about my grades, but about my social vibe. If I bought jeans, she'd cut them with Fiskars scissors to make them look like I stole them from a homeless shelter's lost and found. With sneakers, I remember one time I wanted some casual Nike's and I had a job, so I bought them with my own money. Next thing I knew, the soles were being melted in the oven. The house reeked for days." Aubrey cleared her throat in annoyance. "She got me Dansco's to replace them."

"Geezum. I'm glad I never got the real 'parents' undergo." They chuckled.

"Is your dad chill?"

Beca pondered on the thought of telling her. "He's um..." She'd never actually said it out loud. "He had his moments." She held her breath, hoping Aubrey wouldn't question the "had."

She didn't. "I get you." There was a moment of silence between them that didn't last awkwardly long. "So you never had a sibling or anything?"

"Nope. I'm pretty sure they tried for another, if you understand what I'm saying here, but nah. You?"

"Yeah, I have an older brother. He's like ten years older though. In the army, of course. My dad is proud of him. My mother approves," she sighed. "He's their perfect child."

Beca, not really knowing what to say, offered, "Well, to me your a pretty great friend, so I'm sure that should be weighted for something, no?"

"Awe, thanks Beca! That's so nice!"

She shifted uncomfortably, but remained grateful. "Anyhoo. I would ask if you wanted to have a super girly, totally over the top sleepover, but my room's still a little chilly."

"You could stay..." Aubrey gestured toward Chloe's bed. The younger girl did not want to be in someone else's bed, especially some she was well acquainted with.

Beca laughed. "I've gotten so used to the temperature in there, I'd be in the Sahara here. Thanks though." She got up to make her way to the door. "See you later?"

Aubrey nodded. "See ya."

* * *

 **And that concludes this update up. Reviews are always encouraging, whether negative or positive! Big thank yous to those still actually reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

**So I started this notebook where I write down everything I think about and it's kind of scary to be honest. Like, I wonder if I'm insane for wanting to fill hundreds pages with random thoughts. It probably is just weird, not insane. Also, what I've noticed from this is that I seriously need to work on my vocabulary, haha.**

* * *

Finally, it was the day Chloe would return from Tampa. A part of Beca missed the redhead's presence. Another part wanted to melt into the floor and fall asleep. Ah, just sink back and allow everything to be the way it wants. After pretty much blowing her off the night she found Stacie _and_ implying that she had a phone to text with, but never did, she felt rude. For sure it was pissy. For sure she was being a bit self centered. To fix all this, Beca invited Chloe to eat a meal that she would make. From the past three weeks of working her ass off, she implored herself to set aside money to hand make the food.

At five thirty on an off day she was given by Marty's, Beca had paninis and salads made for the two of them to build friendship over. Hopefully, Chloe wouldn't be upset about being treated so poorly. Beca only prayed.

 _Knock knock._

"Who's there?" Beca joked again on the inside of the door.

A soft, light voice came from the other side. "Police."

"Police who?" She hadn't heard this one before.

"Police let me in," Chloe smiled as her neighbor opened up.

"Ah," Beca laughed. "I see you've made all my dreams come true. You may be the only person I'll ever want to hang out with ever again." Chloe stepped in and looked away to hide the deep red blush creeping up her neck.

"Oh yes. I'm the girl every fourteen year old boy masturbates to."

Before Beca could think she said, "Well I've got one thing in common with them." For a moment she laughed, but then realized what she had just said. "Sorry... That just- it... it fell out? I'm sorry." She shook her head, embarrassed. "I don't do that."

The older girl simply smirked. "What did you make? Ooh, salad... and paninis. Thank you so much, this smells great!"

Beca began playing with her long callused fingers. "Nah, don't thank me. It's an apology for blowing you off for Stacie. It was kind of bitchy. And not texting you. I don't have a phone yet," the brunette explained. "I'll definitely hit you up though once I do."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. I thought you didn't really like me, but I'm guessing now... well since you lady jam to me..." she sighed, loving to tease.

Beca's face became quite heated. "You won't let that go anytime soon, will you?"

"Mh," Chloe hummed, pretending to contemplate on the idea. "Nope!" She popped exclusively to "p" whilst grinning brightly. They sat down casually on the countertop, hence the lack of chairs. "So how's juggling three jobs going for you?"'

The brunette finished swallowing a bite before shrugging. "It's not that bad actually. I legit don't have any other responsibilities like strong friendships or pets or the need for eight hours of sleep each night." Before Chloe could respond, she caught herself. "I mean, I value our friendship, but well... I'm a busy person, you know?"

Chloe looked down at her sandwich and wondered if Beca would ever open up to being an average level of social. "Is that why Bree said you don't drink outside of bars?"

Beca nodded. She didn't party anymore. She vowed herself not to. "What really _is_ the point in making connections with people? It's impossible to like every aspect of a person. I think that everyone hates at least one thing about every person. I can't help it, you can't help it. No one can," she put some more Valentina on a bite she was about to take. "Like, I don't know what I hate about you yet, but even if I find it on the last day I live, that still counts."

The redhead pondered on the concept. "What about your soulmate? Are they not good enough?" She looked into the deep ocean blue eyes, thought they didn't look back.

"No," Beca simply stated. "Every living thing is selfish. In their own mind, everyone is their own protagonist. Some may show it more than others, some may have that trait in their subconcious." She finally looked at her guest's face with a distant appearance. "I wish..." She was about to say that she wished she could love another person, just to feel something great again, but she couldn't form the right words.

The light flickered above them, the sound of cars passing in the streets below, a chill through the room made its way through. "I can tell you do a lot of thinking."

"Did. Three years with nothing to do but watch people walk by and ignore your pleading expressions can do a thing or two to people." The words were out before her brain could catch up. She laughed it off, "Pulling a Oliver Twist, 'Sir, sir, may I please have some more soup?'" She held out her hands into a bowl and made a face.

Chloe smiled at the attempt to change the subject. She whispered, but made sure Beca couldn't hear, "I don't think I'll find your flaw for a while."

"So do you work as?" Beca questioned, desperate for the older girl to forget.

"A vet. And holy shit, all these animals..." she put her hands to her heart. "They're so damn cute, it just makes me want to scream!"

"Even if some of them are half dead?"

The vet made a pained expression. "Wow. Way to ruin the moment. I love them so much, and they love me."

Beca thought a moment. _They don't love you, they love what you do for them._ She thought back on all the times she was complimented on her body, but never for who she was. _They liked what I did for them, not me._ The brunette was about to voice her thoughts, but instead came, "That's great you love your job."

"You have a guitar right?" Chloe thought about asking about all the dots that connected her to being homeless. Beca only nodded a nervous response. "Could you play? You like playing right?"

"Yeah, I love it. Lemme just go grab it," she walked away to her room and grabbed the instrument by the neck. Her suspicions grew stronger, _Does she know?_ When she got back into the tiny kitchen she sat opposite Chloe on the counter. "What would you like to hear?"

Chloe thought about asking for The A Team by Ed Sheeran again, so she could be positive it was the same person, but decided it would be best not to push it. "How about The Middle by Jimmy Eats World?"

"Dude," Beca looked unimpressed. "Pick something harder."

Chloe furrowed a brow. "Under The Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers."

The stormy eyes twinkled becoming a bit glassy. Her extended fingers danced along the neck, not playing yet. The redhead wondered what was going on, no music was playing yet, but then it occurred to her that Beca was calculating out what notes were the correct ones on the spot.

Her left hand plucked the strings professionally. Everything about her fingers were moved in pureness. As the singing part came, Beca took in a deep breath, making Chloe expect to find out then and there if this was truly the same voice. Instead, she plucked more stings in accordance to that section of the song. Her feet tapped against the wooden wall, imitating the drums. The oven next to her feet became the hi-hat. The redhead was astounded by the talent.

Once she finished the entire song, the redhead sat back. "Woah. You seriously have some- no. You have _a lot_ of talent. How do you do it?" Chloe couldn't help but gawk at what she had just heard.

"Thanks, I guess," Beca smiled weakly. "Have you ever heard Jimmy Page though? His improvisations are my shit. I think if I had a playlist it'd be all... Oh, and Shawn Lane? You ever heard him? Holy guacamole. Some of these guys are geniuses." She continued on as Chloe watched the younger woman go on with a brightness in her eyes that was unexplainable. It was like she was watching the the ocean and the sun mix. It was fascinating, but she wished this girl, this amazingly beautiful girl would see that it would be okay to look at a person the way she looked at her guitar. Chloe knew the thought of that freaked Beca out, but she couldn't help but want to spend time with her, laugh with her, eat with her, hold her in her arms and tell her that everything was going to be alright.

"I'll be sure to look into it, Bec." Chloe was falling for Beca, Beca for music, music was just as is, waiting to be discovered more and more. "You should give me a list of songs that I should listen to."

"Damn, that's a great idea. I'll start onto it tonight," she smiled sincerely. "I'm not just a rock fan, though. I'm obsessive about rap, pop, most indies, country, classical, r&b, reggae, electronic, instrumentals, and definitely hip hop. Orchestra and Techno and maybe some ska is cool too. Oh, and Mexican corridos. Not the newer ones so much, but the older ones are easily some of my favorites." She stopped to take a breath and listen to Chloe's chuckling laugh. It was like music to her ears, just perfect. "I'll start on that playlist thought as soon as I can." They stood up and went to the door. "This is exciting, I'll admit."

Chloe went right in and hugged Beca. "Stop by tomorrow after your work?"

The brunette was so wrapped up in what songs to choose first, she didn't register that Chloe had hugged her. "Yeah, bye."

As the redhead walked out the door, Beca noticed what just took place. _What the fuck, I let her touch me? Ugh, hug even._ She shook her head and started on the first few songs.

* * *

 **Shawn Lane _is_ a great guitarist. This is definitely one of my favorites. I'd link it if I could or knew how to, but eh ****watch?v=9Jit_KXxhX4 Also, I was just going through some ska and this is officially one of my favorite songs, Firma ilegal by Dubioza Kolektiv. I have no idea what it says or even what language, but it is pretty damn cool. Literally anything by that band I've fallen in love with.**

 **Thanks for the reads! :))**


	11. Chapter 11

**That song Open Season at the beginning here is by High Highs. It's also that song used in the first movie during the spring scene. Sad as fuck, but good.**

 **I'm sorry if it seems a little off in places. I honestly have the strangest mood swings that I can't help. Sometimes it affect the way I write, sometimes not. I always try to go over the piece, but a lot of things still slide.**

 **Sorry this update is so late. Don't have any good excuses. :):**

* * *

"Our House?" Beca muttered to herself while jotting it down on the paper. "No, no. The cover... Phantom Planet." All the songs she had picked for Chloe's list so far had been of her favorites. "Drive... Gemin- how do you spell it again?" She thought a moment before writing "Gemineyes." There was really no genre she had been focusing on, but she loved them all so much, she mixed all of them into one list. There were from song on the radio, "In The Night, my man The Weeknd," to ones that had never been heard of. "Evan George Holland... long ass name geez... Dream Car." Beca was determined to make it the best it could be. She took a look at the scrawny handwriting. "Oh, Open Season too," the engrossed girl whispered.

It was midday on Sunday. Outside was dead cold, no snow, but windy. Beca looked up at the trees through the slightly dirty window. The air blew the treetops viciously. As the branches jerked, she thought about all the angles a person could look at it; a little to the left, a little to the right, the complete opposite side, from the top, from underneath. "Cigarette Daydreams, Cage the Elephant," she wrote.

A knock came from the entrance door.

"Come in, there's no lock." Chloe's red hair popped in the room, a huge white smile on. "Hey, you. I thought you were coming later?"

Her face turned the color of her hair a bit. "Oh, I was just _dying_ to see you," she said sarcastically, but in reality, it was the truth. The younger woman flipped her hair and held out her hand, palm up next to her shoulder as if to say, "of course!" Chloe playfully rolled her eyes, "Narcissus always dies in the end, you know."

The girl on the floor stood up and shrugged, "I'm not done your list, but it's coming along."

She walked over to Beca excited. "Can I see yet? I wanna see how many I already know."

"Uh, maybe when it's done?" Chloe pouted. "Damn it, Beale. Fine," the brunette laughed, giving the paper to her friend.

The redhead looked... perfect when she studied the handwriting. Perfect. It was a new feeling to Beca Mitchell. "I love Escape, but the cover by Jack Johnson is better in my opinion."

"I guess you'll have to show it to me." Beca watched her examine some more. Chloe really was something beyond the rainbow. In a flash, her stomach flipped at the realization what was happening. "'Scuse me to the bathroom real quick." This was happening more and more often, she would forget herself and get carried away, but suddenly remember and get sick. In the tiny restroom she disinfected all around the toilet and her hands.

The noise most have been too noticeable because Chloe's flawless voice came from the other side. "Bec, are you sick? Let me help you clean up."

"Cat vomit is less disgusting than human vomit. Please, I'm really gross right now and I have to get ready in a few hours."

"You don't plan on going to work like that, do you?" After a moment of silence from Beca, the veterinarian continued, "Which job is it? I swear, if it's two tonight, I won't let you go."

Beca rolled her eyes. "Okay, _Mom_. But no, it's only with Fran. The piano one." She thought what could get Chloe to allow her exit. "It's only four hours, no biggie. Actually, three because there's some other guy that's friends with my boss who wanted to play."

The musician opened the door to reveal a thick odor of disinfectant wipes. "Is three hours a lot to lose? I mean, that's probably... what, thirty bucks?"

Long fingers clenched into palms. "And those thirty bucks could keep me from starving a day. These jobs are what are feeding me, housing me, and paying for other bullshit things like that fucking cold water." The younger woman's brows made a small furrow.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it," Chloe apologized. "Aubrey and I are pretty stable. If you ever need an informal loan, you can always come to me." The offer was very generous, but Beca couldn't imagine the shame of having to borrow money.

"Thanks, but I won't," she walked over to the kitchen space. A grin appeared on her face, "I really hope you aren't a germaphobe 'cause I don't have cups but I really need a drink." The redhead's expression changed to being confused about what was about to happen. Before she could stop the brunette, Beca was drinking out of the sink.

"What the hell?! You could get sick. No wait, you're already sick. You could get sicker!" The girl in front of her wiped her face laughing. "It's not funny, Becs. You could have to go to the hospital. How long have you been doing that?"

"I've done this since forever, I'll be fine," she laughed. "I can't think of a time I've gotten sick from water... well only once, but that one shouldn't count."

"Beca!"

"You're paranoid," the brunette snickered.

Chloe laughed along but pulled Beca in for a quick tight hug. "Just worried," she let go as she felt the girl stiffen beneath her grip. "You good?" the redhead smiled into a giggle.

"Yeah, I just..." Beca ponder for a moment. "You smell good," she cringed at her own choice of vocabulary. "I mean, like when you hugged me. What if you just smell normal and I just smell bad? Oh, god... Should I clean up? No wait, I showered this morning. You just smell good is all. God, I cringe so fucking bad at myself." She scrunched up her nose and put her hands through her hair. "Please shut me up now."

"You're so cute," Chloe laughed. Beca pouted in protest. "It's undeniable and the more you say you're not, the more you are." She reached out and took a piece of brown hair in her hand, beginning to twiddle it in her fingers.

Beca mirrored, taking a pice of the fiery red hair in her own hands. "God, after all this trouble of making an _entire_ playlist for you, this is how you treat me," she smiled, but didn't look aways from the hair.

Chloe lightly shoved her friend. "Clean my balls while you're at it," she winked.

The brunette lifted an eyebrow, made a suspicios face, then replied, "How much do you offer?" Though she hated her past, Beca always made an effort to turn that entire part of her life into a joke. Whether the other person knew or not.

"Sixty buck sound good?"

A big "ha" cane out of the tiny body. "Cheap. I'm pretty good, so it would be worth more than that."

Chloe's face redden a bit. "Kinky, but let's test you."

Beca made contorted expression. "This is actually sounding like the intro to a porno."

"Mh..." the redhead thought aloud. "To be honest, I wouldn't mind." She laughed uncontrollably when her friend's mouth fell open and her skin went pale.

"Good to know," Beca croaked. "I'll just go write that on a post-it right now and... maybe I'll put it on my bedroom door for self confidence every morning. Extra boost is always helpful."

Chloe laughed a little more before winking. "Oh, you won't need a sticky. I'll be there right up next to you the next morning, don't your worry," she teased. Beca rolled her eyes as her stomach rumbled once more.

"I know you wish," she smirked.

Chloe's expression became curious. "Would you ever though? Have sex with a stranger for money I mean."

Beca didn't know what to say. She could say yes and seem like a whore. She could say no and feel bad for lying. Or a choice which was very unlikely, say that she has in the past. Instead, she avoided. "Would you? But you can't say like, only if he's cute though."

"She," Chloe corrected.

Bewildered, Beca blinked. "Come again?"

"She," the redhead cleared her throat. "I'm into girls."

The tiny brunette just looked out her window and muttered a, "Huh. I hadn't been expecting that." Rushes of anger at her mother came by. She put her hands behind her back to hide her clenching hands. Her teeth grinded as her brow furrowed. "My mom left my dad to become lesbian. Cheating."

Chloe puckered her lips, sensing the negative vibe. "Are you and him okay though? I mean, that must have been tough."

Again, Beca was stuck not knowing how to reply. Say yes, feel terrible for lying. Say no, get into an unnecessary deep conversation that wasn't well prepared. Avoid seemed to be easiest. "Eh," she shrugged, not giving a solid answer. "But would you do that... thing?"

They were now dancing around Beca's secrets, touchy subjects, and personal thoughts. "What kind of situation would I be in?"

Why not? "Um, you can't go home to your parents, stuck in the city. It's really cold out. The only other way to get money, or a meal for that matter, is to beg, but who wants to give to a beggar? Not many people for sure," she thought about her situation some more. "And you're too embarrassed at you've become to go to a homeless shelter because you used to be a rather intelligent person." She literally just indirectly told Chloe some of the things that were most eating at her.

Chloe put a hand on Beca's forearm. "Yes! Of course! That's a really shitty situation. How'd you come up with that so quick?" Chloe knew something, the brunette could feel. Damnit.

"Hey Chlo?" Her voice wavered a tremble.

"Yeah?"

"Did you walk past me one night when I was playing at a corner?" Her voice cracked, scared that she actually said that out loud. "You know. The A Team. A Thursday night. A couple nights before I moved here."

The familiar fiery haired woman stiffened, remembering the night. She gulped, "Yes."

"You saw I was suffering right?" Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. It was all just blubbering out of her mouth.

"Yeah." The room felt uncomfortably silent.

"Why couldn't you give a hand?" Beca's insides were acidic. "Or did you just not want to?"

Before Chloe could answer, Beca was over the toilet again.

* * *

 **Damn it, this was super late and kind of short. I've been getting a good idea about what to write up next. I should really focus on this, but I've needed to write down the other idea so won't forget. To be honest, that one is looking a lot better than this one.**


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